


I built a home (for you, for me)

by sassy_ninja



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Doctor Iwaizumi Hajime, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, this is just the most slice of life shit u could ever see, very brief though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_ninja/pseuds/sassy_ninja
Summary: Iwaizumi is a doctor and Oikawa is a professional volleyball player, two extraordinary people who are bit by bit learning to be ordinary together. There is no destiny, no legend of old, just two people who have chosen each other every single day.orlove is more than three words, love is patience, love is comfort, love is a plate of cut peaches and feeding you the last slice without even being asked
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 135





	I built a home (for you, for me)

**Author's Note:**

> soo... I feel like it's actually just the universal asian experience to have parents show love through cutting fruit for u and delivering it to u when ur studying and that got me thinking abt how love is often shown without any grand gestures or even without saying anything at all, most of the time it's through little gestures and thoughts and feelings and I wanted to show that through fic. and that very short drabble kinda expanded itself a little bit so..... here we are! anyways I'm currently writing something a little bit longer (that's iwaoi as well) so pls look forwards to that!
> 
> also there is a mention of some sexy times, once just alluding to it in the paragraph beginning w 'I guess if I had to choose' and then a second time more explicitly in the line starting w 'were you thinking pure and clean thoughts'. they kinda joke around abt sex in-between then as well but apart from that it's clean!

He doesn’t remember the first time it happened, of course, he was probably a toddler, but his mother brings a little plate of cut fruit to him. It’s not uncommon, all of his friend’s mums do it as well. He doesn’t even really think about it, it’s just something that mothers do, something for sons to eat and not think too much about. He remembers even being annoyed about it in middle school, back when everything seemed to be a slight against him.

“I have teeth you know,” he says tetchily when she puts a plate of peach slices next to him on the desk, “I can just eat peaches without you having to cut it up like I’m a baby.”

“I know,” his mother says, with a fond sigh, “just eat your fruit, Hajime.”

He grumbles something else his breath as she leaves the room, not quite shutting the door and he rolls his eyes again when he has to get up and close it properly. Everything felt so big back then, so annoying. Oikawa was still worse though, it’s funny that out of the two of them Hajime managed to be so dramatic and still be the sensible one. He ate his plate of cut peaches back then, looking at his history homework and thinking about just how sweet they were and not about how they weren’t even in season anymore.

An old woman makes an annoyed noise in her throat and he blinks quickly, realising that he’s been standing frozen in the fruit isle of their local supermarket with a heavy basket in his hand. He walks away quickly, a little embarrassed and goes to the vegetable isle, grabbing two cucumbers before he goes to the till. Oikawa likes to crunch his way through them whole and when he sees them in the fridge, he gets that pleased glint in his eyes even though he never says anything outright. Technically they count as fruit and Oikawa doesn’t eat enough of those anyways, definitely not enough for an international athlete. Hajime goes back to buy another one.

The plastic bags dig into his hands as he walks home and his neck is a little sore from a long shift, he tries to smooth out the crick with a roll of his head, but it doesn’t really have any effect.

It’s still strange to see the neighbourhood in the middle of the day, there are housewives out for lunch when he’s just coming back from work. He’s lucky really to get away after just eighteen hours, usually when he works the nightshift in the ER it means more like a day and night shift, a few times more like a night, day and then another night shift all lumped together. He’s the most junior doctor in the department, can’t really say no to anyone especially not when there are patients lying on beds and sitting on seats, waiting to be seen. He knew what he signed up for in med school, but still it’s hard work, rewarding and burn out tiring at the same time.

Oikawa had practically had an aneurysm the first time, back when Hajime was still on rotations as a student and he hadn’t come back home for a second evening. He’d brought Hajime a homemade bento into the hospital and all his co-workers had cooed about how sweet his roommate is, how terrible their university roommates had been. The memory of his pinched and worried face with that neatly wrapped bento, it still makes him smile.

He rubs the back of his neck – roommate – that word though, it’s sour on his tongue. He thinks about Oikawa and his secret smiles and his six-step skincare routine and the quiet worry he has in his eyes when Hajime comes back from his little-bit-longer-than-twelve-hour shifts. Roommate is not exactly the word he would use to describe it, he thinks as he walks back into their flat, calling out a quiet ‘I’m home’ as he toes off his shoes and goes to put the fruit, sports drinks, vegetables and bottle of vinegar in the kitchen.

Their flat is empty – there’s a note on the fridge in Oikawa’s neat print that telling Hajime he’s at national team training and when he’ll be back because sometimes Hajime loses track of what day it when he has a night shift. He takes it down, rubbing the back of his neck again. Maybe he strained something when he was transferring that patient from the gurney to the bed, the middle-aged woman with the long hair down to her waist and the suspected stroke. He tidies everything away and tucks the note into a special little notebook he keeps because he’s secretly sentimental about these things, not that he would ever let Oikawa know.

He showers, tries not to fall asleep in the bathroom and only barely makes it to bed. It’s been made, only roughly but he doesn’t really care. He falls onto his side and pulls Oikawa’s pillow to his chest, burying his face in it. It smells like him. He misses him even though it’s only been around twenty hours since they last saw each other. He wonders as he falls asleep, if Oikawa feels as lonely too, sleeping alone in their shared bed at night when Hajime is at work.

* * *

When he wakes up the sun is practically set already and he stretches in bed, groaning a little bit as his joints click. There’s noise in the flat like Oikawa is home already. Hajime blinks, staring at the clock, it’s only six twenty, normally he doesn’t get home from training until seven, sometimes even eight.

“Oikawa?” he calls, grimacing a little bit when he gets up and his neck twinges. He staggers out of their bedroom and blinks when he finds him in the kitchen, still in his workout gear and putting away a bag of shopping. There are two peaches in the fruit bowl, even though they’re almost out of season and therefore even more ridiculously expensive.

“Iwa-chan, you look like death warmed over,” Oikawa tells him chirpily and Hajime just grunts, slumping over his shoulders and nuzzling his face into his neck, ignoring that he’s still a little damp with sweat, “you didn’t have to go shopping, you must’ve been tired after your shift.”

He just grunts again and Oikawa laughs, running his hands through Hajime’s bedhead, teasing out the little clumps and ruffling where it’s dried weirdly, pressed down by his pillow. He knows Oikawa hates the nightshift, hates how he enjoys just how clingy Hajime gets when he’s tired, but he needs this now. They sway quietly together for a moment, Hajime feels himself relax for the first time in a little less than twenty-four hours. 

“You smell, go take a shower,” he says after a while, breaking away and yawning. He ignores Oikawa’s outraged squawk and rubs the back of his neck absentmindedly, “I’ll make dinner, you’re hungry aren’t you.”

It’s a statement because Oikawa is always hungry after he comes back from training, Hajime could feel his stomach rumbling when they were holding each other. They move around each other easily, every movement familiar. When Oikawa comes back, towel slung around his shoulders and hair wet he pulls him into a long kiss. Roommate, Hajime thinks as they eat, small smile on his lips that Oikawa notices and quirks his head at, that’s not quite what this is.

“When’s your next nightshift?” Oikawa asks, they’re on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his thighs, a match between Korea and the Netherlands playing and Hajime is going through some patient notes, brow furrowed.

“Mnn, not until the end of the month,” he says absentmindedly, carding a hand through Oikawa’s hair. It’s long now, he’ll need to get it cut soon and that’ll be the celebrity gossip of the day. He wonders if the photographers will try to follow him back home again or if the pretty boy of the national volleyball team getting a haircut has finally stopped becoming news.

“Good, you’re always so tired for days afterwards,” Oikawa says, sitting up and frowning when Hajime’s hand slips out of his hair, “you know I might let my hair grow out a bit, do you think a manbun would suit me?” he says as if he’s reading Hajime’s mind as he walks to the kitchen.

“Anything would suit you,” Hajime replies and it’s true, “the magazines will have a field day though.”

“They would,” Oikawa replies and Hajime can hear his smug smile without even seeing his face, “you like my hair long, don’t you?”

“I guess if I had to choose. It’s nice long,” he says, thinking about Oikawa sprawled out beneath him with his hair spread over the pillows, or Oikawa from behind, just how easy it is to thread his fingers through his hair and _pull_ when it’s long. The noises he makes when he does, the way his mouth falls open and he gasps. Or when Oikawa is pushing him down onto his back, face pressed into his neck and the way Hajime can grab his hair and pull him up to kiss him, messy and open-mouthed.

“Iwa-chan is thinking dirty thoughts, isn’t he?” Oikawa crows, suddenly stepping back into the living room and onto the sofa next to him. He has a plate of cut peaches in his hand and he victoriously feeds Hajime a piece when he doesn’t deny it, “it’s okay, I know I’m very sexy, Iwa-chan. You can have all your dirty thoughts like a dirty old man.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles around a mouthful of peach, “not like you don’t have dirty thoughts as well, Pervertkawa.”

“All my thoughts are always pure and clean,” he says, making a serene expression and pressing his hands together like a monk. Hajime just whacks him on the back of his head with his patient notes.

“Were you thinking pure and clean thoughts when you made me late for my shift because you just had to suck my dick against the front door, huh?” he teases, grinning even wider when Oikawa goes red and starts spluttering, “I could hear our neighbours outside, that isn’t very clean and pure at all, is it Tooru?”

“Shut up, shut up,” he whines, shoving another piece of peach into Hajime’s mouth to get him to be quiet. It works, he grins at him and chews, satisfied.

They go back to their work, Hajime frowning at a list of symptoms that don’t quite make sense and Oikawa watching the same play over and over again until he figures something out and scribbles it down into his notebook. It’s quiet, Oikawa has a hand stretched along the back of the sofa, massaging Hajime’s neck, he grunts a little bit when he digs his thumb in.

He takes the last slice of peach in revenge even though his neck does feel better afterwards. When he takes a bite though he’s a little surprised by just how sweet this piece is and it’s almost instinctive that he holds the other half out for Oikawa. He opens his mouth and eats it, obedient.

“You should’ve just finished it, it’s your favourite and I bought it just for you,” Oikawa pouts and Hajime just shrugs.

“It was sweet,” Hajime says like it answers the question, licking the juice off his fingers so he doesn’t get it on his paperwork. Oikawa huffs out a laugh, humming as he digs his thumb in again and Hajime winces. The two of them get back to their own work, together.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: the last bit is a reference to the story of Mizi Xia which is this semi-legendary chinese gay who took a bite out of a peach and it was so delicious that he gave the rest of it to his lover u should google it bc it's super interesting tbh!
> 
> if u enjoyed pls leave a kudo and a comment! it would mean the world to me!


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